


Bite Me, I'm Yours

by SunlitGarden



Series: A/B/O Mine Series [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alpha Jughead Jones, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, F/M, Friendship/Love, High School, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Betty Cooper, Reluctant Alpha, Rutting, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 00:23:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20300407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlitGarden/pseuds/SunlitGarden
Summary: They’re still clothed, rutting an absolute mess onto each other, his belt half-undone and her sweater pushed up when the warning bell rings.Groaning, he pushes his forehead into her glands and inhales. “We’re not going to finish, are we?”“No, Juggie. Not right now.” She sounds just as morose about it as he feels.Even with her sweet kiss and promise to meet up with him after class, he knows the next hour and a half is going to be absolute torture.





	Bite Me, I'm Yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jandjsalmon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jandjsalmon/gifts).

> Hey, it's a sequel! For those of you unfamiliar with Alpha/Omega dynamics or this universe, they're not werewolves, it's mostly just hormones, smells, some biting, and licking so if that's not your thing, enjoy your day and we'll see ya later! For the rest of you, enjoy my heathen brain! Questions can go to @lovedinapastlife on tumblr

Everything is _good_ inside of Betty, _around _her. It’s so smooth, so _warm_ going deeper, in and out, his knot tightening and swelling until they’re practically fused together. Her back arches up, nails raking deliciously along the glands on his neck. He strains with the urge to ask her to sink a mark into his flesh, even if it’s with her fingers instead of her teeth.

_Mine._

“_Omega...Betts,_” he pants, sweat slinking down the hollows of his back.

“Alpha, please.” She leans up, her hot breath misting his neck gland and fogging his brain with need. “I need your come inside of me.”

With a sharp cry, he sprays into her. Not empty. Not for Omega. Not for Betty. He’ll make more. He’ll make her happy. He’ll take care of her, always. He groans, nuzzling into her neck and kissing there so tenderly that he feels her flutter all around him. Seizing orgasms wrack them both until they can hardly breathe anything but each other’s scent.

It’s what he wants. It’s what he needs.

_Betty. Him._

_Nothing else._

Her fingers card through his hair, which has been free from its usual confines and running wild with the heightened testosterone that came from going off his suppressants. It’s healthier, lusher, now that his mate is caressing him. Normally, being off suppressants makes him feel like a raging horrendous asshole but with Betty--

_Oh_, with Betty…

Everything’s blooming.

“Thank you, Alpha.” Her veneration makes his knot swell and he whimpers in reply. Knowing, sweet, she keeps stroking his hair, kissing his jaw - not quite lingering on the sensitive, swollen glands still flaming from their love.

His voice goes small, like a ribbon he’d love to curl down her throat. “I don’t want to go back.”

“I know,” she promises, nodding, and he believes her. “I know, Juggie. But we have to. You do still want to see our friends, don’t you?”

Would it be so terrible if he said he didn’t?

She’s _everything_.

That’s probably the hormones talking. They did just have their first heat together - days ago his teeth sank into her neck gland for their permanent soul/mate mark, he’s recently off suppressants, _and_ he’s still knotted inside of her. There is no world he can look forward to that involves them parting from one another.

Maybe her heat and his rut haven’t totally synced up. The suppressants took a day or two to fully flush through his system and he still feels like he could have sex with her all day. Too bad once the heat fades, so does her body’s ability to keep up with that kind of activity. But he’s fine. He doesn’t want to make anything harder for his Omega, and right now they’re knotted together and in love and that’s all he needs.

Falling quiet in content, Betty wraps her arms around his neck and nuzzles in.

“I love you.” He’s not sure who says it first this time, only that they’re sickeningly, gloriously repetitive in a way that makes him want to grind his teeth together and bite her mark again.

Although his face arches down to kiss her, he rolls his shoulders and back to keep himself propped up above her. If he rests directly on her, he’s at risk of falling asleep, and that means tomorrow becomes _today_, if it hasn’t already. He loathes the idea of going back to school, of sharing his Betty with other people again when they’ve just discovered so many new things about one another.

Running her fingers down his back, Betty manages to coax him onto his side. Their bodies are slick and joined and relaxed. Betty kisses his lips and closes her eyes. “We need our rest for tomorrow.”

“Don’t leave.”

“Of course not,” she promises sleepily, nuzzling in closer. “You’re my soulmate.”

He’s _hers_.

Her morning alarm is sharp and annoying, made even more so by the fact that she’d specifically had him approve of one the day before. The song inspires nothing but disgust in him now. He holds Betty tighter around the waist.

“Juggie, come on,” she insists, kissing the tip of his nose and flooding his senses with the urge to please her.

Groaning, he lets his arms fall slack so she can slide off the bed and pad towards the bathroom, tugging his t-shirt on as she goes. Watching her cover herself in something of his makes his dick twitch. “You’re way too excited for this,” he complains, already longing to drag her back to bed.

“I’m not excited, I’m energized. We should be _exhausted_. Everything’s been so _great_ that I can’t help but feel like this is the best time of my life.” Her little flush alongside the sweet rationale has him growling low in satisfaction.

_He _did that for Omega. 

With a genial smile, she shuts the bathroom door before turning on the light so she doesn’t disturb his sleep any more than necessary. So thoughtful, his Omega. Although they grew up together and have spent the last few days pretty much inside of each other, Betty’s still a little shy about using the bathroom in front of him. For now, she prefers that he wait outside. It’s not like he’s eager to be a part of that experience, but he hates having walls between them now.

He sighs, blearily looking up at the ceiling and wondering when he officially _has _to get up.

“Bett-_y_,” he yawns, rubbing his eyes.

The door cracks open about an inch. “Yes?”

“We should eat.” It’s the only thing that can make this day bearable. Well, _almost_.

“If you want to go down, you can. I was thinking maybe we could do a quick shower together first?” Just as his tongue starts swelling, teeth aching at the promising thought, she says, “Then, after breakfast, we can get to school early so we can turn in all of our make-up assignments.”

He throws an arm over his face. “Come on, Betts.”

“You know how much I love lazing around with you, but I also love working at the Blue and Gold. We’ll probably have a pile-up of mail and leads to find. Doesn’t that excite you?” The sound of water squeaking on is too high pitched. It irritates him.

“_No_,” he grumbles quietly, even though it _does _sound kind of interesting.

Her cute face appears in the doorway just a few seconds later, eyebrow quirked in challenge.

“Okay, _yes_.” As much wallowing as he’d like to do, it’s impossible to be too down when his Omega is practically skipping around the room. Still, something niggles aggressively at the thought of her prancing around the school halls. “Are you relieved to get a chance to be away from me?”

She shoots him a chiding glance, still chipper as she lays out potential outfits for the day. “You know that’s not the case, Juggie. I _just _said we had the best days of my life. I might be a _little _more energized because I finally feel like I’m in my own body again. Marked, of course,” she amends, lovingly pulling aside his t-shirt to show off his dentures prettily scarred on her neck gland. “And ready to take on the world.”

He stretches out with a grin. “That’s my girl.”

His Omega. His everything.

A cloud of her pleased arousal floats towards him as her eyes rake over his elongated form. He hums, satisfied, as she preens, playing with the ends of her loose hair.

“Shower with me?”

“Like you need to ask.”

Taking care of her is like taking care of himself - something he used to do out of sheer self-preservation and now as a pleasant indulgence. Her breasts are so soft, her skin so silky. He loves the knots in her hair. He even loves helping untangle them with conditioner and the brush. Betty can do all these things herself, and sometimes she still does, but he gets to be a _part _of it. The firm pressure of his hands kneads soap lovingly into her back. Her palms flatten against the tile to brace herself as he presses deeper. Jughead can’t help but notice the way her legs are spread, smell her arousal building.

“Betty...”

She moans as he nudges her entrance with his half-hard member. His thumbs dig into the groove of her shoulder.

He wants to unwind and memorize every nook and cranny of her body.

Rocking back and forth, he wraps one arm around her front, playing with her nipple and making her cry out. She rocks back against him. As she starts coating him in a fine layer of her arousal, everything else falls into rhythm. He lifts her hips and keeps hitting her clit.

“Jughead…” Her head rolls forward. Omega needs relief.

He pushes inside of her, relishing the way her body squeezes him back like an embrace.

“_Fuck_, Betts. My good girl. My sweet Omega.”

The sound of their bodies slapping together under the water is a beautiful symphony, a much better wake up call than anything he could imagine. Adrenaline thrumming through his veins, Jughead pounds her harder, hitting the spongy spot inside that makes her cry his name.

“Wait—don’t—don’t knot.”

“Why not?” he growls, eyeing his marks on her shoulder.

“Because then we’ll be late.”

He doesn’t give a fuck about being late, about being anywhere except inside his sweet Omega. But then Betty looks over her shoulder at him, all green eyes and pretty lashes and _love _and he tries to comply.

Even though it pains him, he stops going balls-deep. Shallow thrusts. Fingers on her clit. He should be grateful he gets to be in her at all, but the few days of ravishing each other in her heat seem to have kicked him into a shallow rut. Although she’s cooled down, and so has he, there’s a part of him that wants to hold onto this feeling. The whole experience has brought them so close together, he doesn’t want there to be a reason to create more _space_.

She comes, then repositions so she can rub her breasts and suck him off instead.

_His beautiful, thoughtful Omega_.

Still, he longs to knot inside of her. Stay with her. Together.

Once they’re washed and dressed, he sort of itches with the realization that they’re _clean_. Although her Omega scent has morphed to mingle with his now that she’s marked, he still feels the urge to shove his hair under the beanie so no one else inhales his Alpha aura. He wants to lick her glands until everyone can smell his scent radiating off of her, even the more hormone-balanced betas.

Sensing his attentiveness, Betty finishes tucking her pretty heart-laden shirt into her burgundy skirt with pockets and wraps her arms around his neck, tugging on the button-down he’s put over his t-shirt.

“A whiff before we go down for breakfast?”

He nods, elongating his neck so she can sniff him, rub her cheek somewhere safe and _hers_. A little dab of wetness makes him jolt. Eyes wide, he looks down and bursts out laughing at her mischievous little smirk.

He tugs her closer, thumb grazing the gland on her wrist. “I thought we agreed that any serious necking would be grounds for tardiness.”

“That wasn’t serious. That was barely a taste. I can’t help it if I want you to smell like me a _little _bit, at least.”

“Come here.” He pulls aside her shirt to see her mark in full.

Beautiful. _Theirs_.

“Juggie,” she warns, pulse already jumping under his touch.

“Just a taste.” He kisses the gland on her wrist gently, sweetly, throwing her off guard before licking a large stripe from one side of her neck to the other. Squealing, she recoils, his hand still firmly around her wrist. Amidst their wrestling, he’s able to sneak a few more kisses and tickles until finally his own stomach protests that they have to get breakfast before the horridness of school.

Opening her bedroom door is like getting hit in the face with lavender and sage, all scents to cover their mating. Alice had literally made a hanging sage _curtain _they have to walk through to get downstairs. Betty sends him an apologetic glance and takes his hand, squeezing in hopeful reassurance. This is sort of what he knew he was getting into, and since last night was the only one of their post-heat they stayed here, he thinks he can hold his breath and _maybe _bite his tongue enough to deal with his future in-laws.

“About time you two showed up.”

His body tightens in annoyed defensiveness. Of course that’s the first thing Alice says to them. Used to the censure, Betty just smiles and reaches for the chair next to her mother.

Breakfast is basically an exercise in restraint. Glares. Pointed sips. Large bites of food so his mouth is too full to say something horrendously sarcastic and get him kicked out of his girlfriend’s presence - not that he _could _be, really. They’d always find their way back together. Still, Betty’s asked all of them to keep the peace and he’s going to try to please his Omega.

Finally, the pancakes and orange juice are consumed, their teeth brushed, and they’re on their way. His bag feels heavy and awkward at his side and he’s grateful to have Betty under his other arm to balance it out. It’s weird to just _walk over _to the Andrews house this way.

Archie himself seems surprised to see them, his gaze bouncing between his friends as if Betty and him haven’t walked to school almost every day since Kindergarten, Jughead occasionally joining them after a sleepover. “You guys coming back to school today?”

“Today is the day,” Betty announces, her knees trembling slightly with nerves. “You are officially off of homework courier duty. Thank you so much, again, Archie. We brought you some meatballs to make up for it.”

Betty hands over the tupperware and Jughead tries not to smile at the memory of the obscene amounts of pasta they consumed over the past week to try and keep up their energy. Making meatballs was just a delicious part of the attempt at variety.

“Thanks! I’ll just, um…”

“Oh, are those the lovebirds?” Fred appears just beyond Archie, holding up his bag. “Nice to see you rejoin the rest of us.”

Betty ducks her head with a shy smile and Jughead nods in greeting, squeezing Betty’s mark. Of _course _Fred would know they’d been holed up for the last few days making vigorous love to each other. Just as Jughead begins to wonder _how much _he knows, Fred says, “Congratulations, by the way. When you’re ready to celebrate, give me a call. We’ll fire up the grill. You can even invite your parents, if you want to.”

Betty melts into the puppy-dog look of appreciation, her fingers mingling into Jughead’s. It’d make a nice engagement photo shoot pose. Not that he’s thinking they should do that right away. He has time to make a nest for her, a home. He’s trying not to nuzzle her too obscenely in front of what’s basically his foster family.

“Thank you.”

“We appreciate it.”

Any more time spent crammed in a door frame with his mate is going to make him want to drag her upstairs and ravage her, so he pulls back a little, jerking his head. “Speaking of rejoining the living…”

“Right! Let’s go! Bye, Dad.” Archie exchanges the meatballs for his bag and hurries outside, ears tinged with pink. He gives them a bit of a wide berth, but at least he seems happy to see them. “So how was your, uh, time off?”

“Pleasurable.” Betty shoots Jughead a look, her ponytail thwacking him in the chest. “Sans parental insanity and a sage curtain Alice put up around Betty’s bedroom.” Archie’s laugh crescendos to almost a cackle, and everyone visibly relaxes. They’re at least _somewhat _back to normal. “What about you? Any musical interludes? Jock sweat stories?”

“Valentines?” Betty’s sweet smile makes Jughead feel warm and tingly right down to his toes. Maybe she notices, because she squeezes him around the waist a little tighter.

“No, no,” Archie chuckles, rubbing the back of his head and grinning at the ground in a way that means there obviously _is _something brewing in their other best friend’s life. “I just—--I’m writing some songs. The Pussycats said they might let me do backup for the Valentine’s Day Dance.”

“Oh, really? That’s great!”

Jughead pulls Betty closer under his arm. He knows she’s still fighting her instincts to plan the whole dance out of guilt for missing the committee meetings. Besides, Jughead’s pretty sure Archie’s just excited to be noticed by girls in catsuits with small-town fame and doesn’t actually care about the dance the way Betty does. No one cares about things - about _people_ the way she does.

He’s so indescribably lucky she’s his mate, that she chose to care about _him_ forever.

Jughead mildly wonders if now that they’re mated, he’s got to start caring about dances and things, too.

“Yeah, it’s pretty great. But the girls keep getting into it about who sings lead. Even Veronica, who’s supposed to be singing with me.” Clearly, Archie is dancing around the edge of exploring the possibility of hormones affecting the dynamic, but Jughead certainly isn’t going to give him _that _opening when there are other opportunities ripe for the picking.

“Would you say the girls are probably headed towards a _cat fight_?”

Archie chuckles and shakes his head and Betty sighs in affectionate exasperation. Maybe this will be their new normal. Archie, walking slightly ahead so as not to smell his best friends’ intermingled scents, and Jughead and Betty with their arms around each other.

That’s not so bad. They can all handle that.

Once they get to the school itself, Jughead rubs his thumb over Betty’s mark.

_His_, he has to remind himself, feeling vulnerable without his own mark, especially with his hormones higher than normal. People might actually be able to smell him today, and now that Betty’s presented, they might smell _her_. His fingers tighten on her shoulder. Whatever they smell of her, it’s mingled with _him_, too.

“Jug,” she says quietly, gently loosening his grip. Her gaze bores into him, worried.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” he assures her, letting his hand skid down to her back instead.

He _feels _people looking at them, more suspicious than anything else, he thinks, but it sets him on edge anyway. There are so many scents in the hall that it’s ridiculous. Even Archie seems to notice his growing tension, chatting animatedly in an attempt to distract them.

Betty’s nodding, paying attention, while Jughead glares at anyone who gets too close. His stomach feels like a writhing tentacle of anxiety. There are so many people here, so many scents. He’s so much more sensitive now that he’s off his suppressants. His lungs ache for Betty with every inhalation, the taste from her neck sitting on his tongue.

Of course Reggie is the first flash of testosterone they come into contact with, the scent nauseating to the core, like going into the wrestling room with its sweat-soaked walls. Reggie’s face twists in confusion, eyeing Jughead’s hand on Betty’s shoulder, the proximity to Archie. “What’s this? Is Jughead fucking your girl, Andrews?” Rage shoots sharp and neat through every vein in his body. He wants to bash Mantle into a locker, claw up his face for even insinuating that Betty belongs to—_with _anyone else. Like neither of them are even _here_, like they’re not worthy or real. As he coils to leap, Betty wraps herself around him in a stifling hug, the inertia pushing her back two inches, tennis shoes squealing on the tile below.

“Breathe, Juggie,” she begs. His arms instinctively wrap around her, cradling her head against his chest. It’s calming, but his heart is still racing. “I’m here,” she murmurs, stroking his back. “I’m yours.” He kisses her neck, hoping he can block out the dumbass with her scent. Omega doesn’t want him to fight.

_Oh, but he’s sure as hell going to._

Archie’s broad shoulders step between them, buffering Mantle’s body odor. “What the hell, Reggie? It’s not cool to talk about my friends that way.”

“Yeah, well they smell weird. Especially Jones.”

Looking over his shoulder, Archie raises his eyebrows, silently asking permission.

Jaw clenched, Jughead shakes his head. His fangs are itching to come out for a much less wonderful reason than imprinting his love on Betty’s skin. “Fuck off, Reggie. Why don’t you take another testosterone supplement and lament the fact that your neck hasn’t been touched for—how many days is it?”

This time, Reggie comes swinging, Archie’s gym shoes planting on the tile in his wild attempt to hold him back. It’s a blur, almost a red-out as Jughead swings Betty to the side (_protect Omega_) and lurches into action, nearly ripping Reggie’s shirt as he pulls him up just to lay on the punches.

Maybe Reggie is punching him, too, trying to tackle him at the waist, Archie scrambling in between.

_Alpha. Alpha. I’m the Alpha,_ his thoughts keep pumping mindlessly. _I’m _her _Alpha. No one else._

“Guys!” Archie pushes Reggie back, momentarily granting a reprieve of the overwhelming urge to destroy everything. And then he’s _wet. _Stunned, really. A few icy droplets cling to his cheeks, leftovers from whatever Betty’s dumped on Reggie.

Chest heaving, Betty glares between all of them. “Do you all want to end up in the Principal’s office?” He says nothing, heartbeat pounding, limbs tense and frozen.

_Omega_.

“Take a deep breath, drink some ice water, and let us get to class,” she snaps, grabbing Jughead around the wrist and overloading his senses with a tight urge to hold her.

“Betty…”

“Not right now.”

Reggie stands there, absolutely stupefied and dripping wet, only wiping his face once they’ve moved along. It’d be hilarious if Jughead wasn’t so hyped up, still tingling from the contact on his wrist gland. A rapid drum beats in Jughead’s ears, and he’s hyper-aware of the way Archie is trailing behind them, somewhat of a neutralizing shield.

Jughead wants to be good. Good for her. Alpha hierarchy is so hard to deal with in something stupid like high school. This shit is why he never went off suppressants before she needed him. Now her shoulders are tense, her gait hurried, and he can barely even focus on how nice she smells with all the frenzied hormones in the air.

_Omega shouldn’t need to take care of him. He’s supposed to take care of Omega._

“Can we check in on the Blue and Gold?” he asks, needing to get a respite before being bombarded by Hurricane Lodge and company. He needs to talk to Betty _alone_. He needs to make sure she’s happy.

Her whole posture shifts, straightening in anticipation. “Of course!”

Archie takes his cue to part ways, saluting awkwardly before doing his jaunty little dance-walk into the lounge. “Good luck, man.”

Maybe Jughead’s in trouble, but it’s not his fault. Omega will understand. Betty will listen to him. She’s so _good_, making sure other Alphas stay away from her. They’re a unit. They’re a team. Partners. _Mates_.

Even hearing Betty fiddle with the lock of the Blue and Gold office makes Jughead feel better. It’s _their _place, and re-entering it makes him feel like he’s home. Although the office has been cleaned, it still smells like the two of _them_. A nest. A home.

_Get it together._

Inhaling deeply, Jughead follows Betty into their lair.

“Are you...okay?” she asks, caressing his wrist comfortingly.

“Reggie just rubbed me the wrong way. Alpha bullshit. I’m sure we’ll get used to it. Thanks for the refreshment, by the way,” he teases, gesturing to the now-empty water bottle poking out of her bag.

“Oh...yeah. I’m just glad it’s over. Maybe you should keep it.”

“Betty—”

“At least for today. You can drink lots of ice water, it might help with...with everything.”

“Betty.” He places his hands on either side of her neck and feels her melt under him. “I’ll be fine. I promise.” He kisses her forehead, relishing in the smell of her hair, her love for him practically radiating out of her pores. “Let’s just...get into our new routine, shall we?”

A little swoop of joy floods his senses at her grin. The way she bobs up on her toes in excitement is absolutely endearing. He’d follow her anywhere, marked or not.

Back to her normal brightness, she flips through school announcements and mail, rattling things off to him with the precision and focus of a White House aide. He picks up the tiny rubix cube on her desk and starts spinning it, his thoughts already calming.

They talk through potential stories, assignments. It starts to feel _normal_.

“Juggie?”

“Yeah?”

Her head is tilted and she’s watching him with a calculated look on her face. “Maybe I should cover the sports events for the foreseeable future.”

She’s worried about him with other Alphas. Omega’s taking care of him, and while part of him is pleased, another part’s ashamed. He stuffs the rubix cube in his pocket and approaches her, rubbing her shoulders in the hopes her own tension melts away. “As much as I welcome the thought of never suffering through a football game again, I can’t have you take on all that extra work by yourself. Wherever you need me, I’ll be. I can handle it.”

“You’re just saying that because you marked me,” she teases, ponytail swaying behind her.

“Probably.” They both grin into a sweet little kiss. She sighs, resettling amidst his embrace. “I’m just a little distracted today. Lots of scents, and not all of them are as nice as yours.” He kisses from her forehead down to her jaw in successive little pecks, hovering on the urge to suck a bruise into her neck just above her mark.

His sweet Omega is heavy-lidded from him being so near, but she still looks worried. “Should we get you a suppressant? Or maybe some vaseline in addition to the ice water?”

“You’re worried about me?”

Her brows knit together, eyes shining as she reaches up to smooth her hand under his collar, rub his glands, and make him want to purr. “I don’t want hormones to take over, Jug. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” It comes out huskier than intended, and he can’t help himself from kissing her again and again. Vaguely pulling at one another, he ends up half-seated on the giant table in the middle of the room with a lapful of Betty, pawing desperately at her neck.

“We shouldn’t,” she gasps, almost a reminder to herself instead of him.

He grins against her mouth. “What? You don’t want me to fuck you on every surface of this room?” The last time they were here, she’d rutted against him until they both came in their clothes. Groaning at the memory, Betty folds against him and pulls at his clothes. His hands snake up her shirt to the warm, smooth skin below. “Or do you want me to build up to it nice and slow?” He plants open-mouthed, wet kisses down her neck, between her breasts.

“We have to control ourselves,” she mildly objects, already grinding down against him.

He noses the material of her shirt aside so he can press a kiss onto her mark, feel her shiver. “Why? Can’t we let Archie play homework courier a little longer?”

“N—no.”

“_Betty_.”

It’s not an Alpha command, but she does lay into him. They’re still clothed, rutting an absolute mess onto each other, his belt half-undone and her sweater pushed up when the warning bell rings.

Groaning, he pushes his forehead into her glands and inhales. “We’re not going to finish, are we?”

“No, Juggie. Not right now.” She sounds just as morose about it as he feels.

Even with her sweet kiss and promise to meet up with him after class, he knows the next hour and a half is going to be absolute torture.

At first it’s just tense, sliding into his seat, resettling amidst the annoying smells of body odor, perfume, and chips. He slouches, determined to keep his head down for the duration of the period despite the stares he’s getting. It feels like something’s itching inside his veins.

Maybe he will get some suppressants, just for their school days. But then he’ll have to get off of them before her heats so he can knot her properly or even _come_. Then the change in hormones will just keep throwing him off. He _loves _knotting Betty, doesn’t want that to go away just because everyone else _sucks _and isn’t _her _and…

“Mr. Jones?” the teacher calls. He flinches to attention. “Perhaps you can answer number 4?”

The phantom of Betty’s warm calves linked with his runs through his mind as he remembers the passage they were meant to work on for today. All of their homework was done in bed. Together.

Taking a deep breath, Jughead fiddles with the rubix cube in his pocket and answers.

~~~

About an hour in, he can’t take it anymore. Everyone must be able to tell, because he gets looks over the shoulder every once in a while, and not just because he’s been furiously trying to solve the damn rubix cube for an hour. He texts Betty to meet him in the Blue and Gold ASAP.

Thankfully, he sits in the back, so it’s not terribly noticeable when he grabs his bag and slinks off. Betty might be upset he’s ditching class, but he can’t _think _straight in there anymore. Maybe he _should_ get some vaseline. He throws his bag onto the floor and buries his face in his hands, hoping to smell some trace of Betty. It’s _almost _like she’s in this room still, her pretty scent left behind from their earlier tryst. Unfastening his pants, Jughead lays on the couch and puts one hand behind his head. His imagination fills with the image of his pretty Omega on top of him. Fisting himself in the office probably isn’t a _genius _idea, considering he didn’t lock the door, but no one else ever comes in here besides her and him.

The pressure in his pants isn’t going to abate until she’s here. He _needs _her. Sighing, Jughead slips his hands beneath his boxers and gives himself a long caress.

_Just getting ready for Betty_, he assures himself, readjusting on the couch. He’s not more than three strokes in when someone knocks at the door and startles him out of his building arousal.

Quickly covering himself, Jughead sits up, wild-eyed, because _Betty _never knocks. 

A freckled face and curly hair poke through the door. “Oh! Hi, Jughead, I…” Even though Ethel’s not looking at him, he can smell her flaring arousal - it has the undertones of mothballs. Nothing will ever smell as good as Betty.

He doesn’t want anyone _but _Betty smelling his. No one else should be here. This is _their _nest.

“Get out,” he commands.

“But I—”

“If you have a tip for the Blue and Gold, leave a note.”

Inhaling deeply, eyes dilating, Ethel edges farther into the room - _their _room - his and Betty’s. “I can help you—”

“_I said...get...out,_” he snarls, the air vibrating with testosterone.

“Okay.” Features pinching in embarrassment, Ethel escapes with tears in her eyes.

“Fuck,” he mutters. The implications of Ethel following him out of class make his stomach roll. Normally, she likes to pay attention. Maybe she thought he was sick? Or maybe she could smell him getting worked up? She was staring kind of open-mouthed in class, as were a few other people. Maybe he _should _lock the door.

He thinks he has a modicum of an idea how Betty felt about _scenting _all over the halls. The easiest solution would be to go back on suppressants, but that would essentially kill his ability to...well, to really _be _with Betty. He’ll just have to deal with betas and Alphas reacting to this. It shouldn’t be a problem unless he’s still sort of in rut.

Hormones and learning curves _suck_, he thinks.

Betty opens the door, glancing back over her shoulder. “Are you okay? What was that?”

“What was what?” he asks, his nerves already untangling now that she’s here. Green apple. Shampoo. Chapstick. “Lock the door and come here.”

She does so without question, leaving her bag by his. “Why was Ethel in here, and why was she so upset?” As Betty settles down to straddle his lap, her pupils dilate. “You smell aroused.”

“I was thinking of you,” he murmurs, pushing their foreheads together and grinding her against his cock. He can tell she’s a little disgruntled about their company. “And strangely enough, Ethel followed me from class into the Blue and Gold and offered to help me out.” Betty almost shoots right off his lap, fury written on her face. Not at _him_. It’s a surge of protectiveness, _possessiveness_, he thinks. He grabs her around the wrist to urge her back against him so she doesn’t rip Ethel’s curls right off her head. “I made her leave, but it was still one of the most awkward moments of my life. Just...rutting, I guess.”

“You had to leave class?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

She gently pulls off his beanie, letting his hair fall loose and free. “You’ve been so good to me this week. You still a little heat-hungover?” He nods, salivating. “Okay, Juggie. I’m so sorry. I should’ve let you knot me this morning, or earlier, when--” She takes a deep breath, tapping her forehead against his and widening her legs. “I’m sorry, Alpha. Please, take what you need. I want to give myself to you. Everything. _Anything_.”

Moaning, he presses his face into her neck. “Talk to me. Tell me you need me. Tell me how much you want your Alpha.”

Her voice slips into broken wantonness. “I want you more than anything.” Mouthing at her neck, Jughead rubs his erection against her. This is every adolescent fantasy he’s ever needed - Betty, love of his life, _needing _him, _craving _him the same way he needs her. “I want to feel your teeth at my neck, your knot deep in my sex.” He nods, nipping at her tendons, groping her back. “_Please_.”

He edges her from his lap.

“Take off your clothes.”

With a heated look, Betty obediently twists her shirt over her head, bra following shortly. He’s barely conscious of taking himself in hand again, up and down, spreading his precum in preparation for her. All he sees is Betty bending over, her breasts hanging temptingly like succulent fruit he wants to suck and savor. Her underwear and skirt stay on the floor as she climbs back onto his lap.

He’s so _hard _for her. He _needs _her.

Without a word, he lifts his hands over his head, Betty scrambling with the hem of his shirts to help him lift them away. “Good.” He hears her breath shake at his praise. “Good girl.” His hand skims her breast, squeezing, making her grind against him. “You’re my good Omega.” Betty’s eyes are already foggy, green rims practically disappearing behind black desire. The arousal in the air is intoxicating. “You know that, Betty?” The indent of her mark serves as a grip to rut up into her, to slather their scents together.

“I want to be good for you.”

“You are. So good. Leaving class so you can take my knot. You like me coming inside you, don’t you, Betty? You want to help Alpha feel better?”

She shuffles, nodding, both of them urgently moving his clothes just enough for his cock to bob free. “Answer me,” he commands amidst the overwhelming smell of their arousal, tugging her hair so she looks up at his face.

“Yes, Juggie. _Please_. I need your knot in me.” Her kiss fills him with some deep-seated richness and he chases her tongue just for the sweetness of it. The cupped hands on either side of his face make his whole body feel like humming.

Keening, he slathers his dick against her slit for relief. There’s not enough of her come to sate him, so he dips under her jaw and starts licking her glands. “You’re mine.”

“Fuck. Nn-yeah,” she breathes, clinging to him and rocking her hips. “Yours, Juggie.”

“Show me how much you want me, Betty.” Her slick drips down onto his waiting prick. Encouraged, he tugs on her hair, thrives on her satisfied moans. “Haven’t I been a good Alpha to you?”

“The best. You feel so good,” she pants, nails dragging along his glands.

Adrenaline courses through him with all the shuddering anticipation of a roller coaster ride. He doesn’t just _suck_ her mark: he licks it, nibbles on it, feels her pussy clench at his tip in a desperate attempt to pull him in.

“Please, Juggie! _Please_! I’ll be so good! _I need you inside of me_!” 

He slams her hips down in synchrony as he pushes up. Full. Perfect. Euphoric and _heavenly_.

“_Yes_,” she shouts, delicately moving her feet so she can get a new angle to fit more of him, to fit _everything_. They’ll need to soundproof this room for all the ways he’s going to ravish her.

His cock swells, his arms wrapping firmly around the small of her back. “Omega, I want you to take all of me. I know how good you can be. Show me.”

Betty holds onto his neck glands, practically setting them on fire, and starts bouncing, squeezing his cock the whole way up and releasing on the way down. Everything outside of his nerve endings and her slick disappears. The repetitive motion has him lifting his hips, chasing her pace, her infinite love.

“Betty, I love you.”

“I know, Juggie. I love you. I really do,” she promises, her body flushing, hands so delicate on either side of his neck. He can feel how tight she is, how strained after milking him for days. So many times he wanted to fuck her right in this very room - when he’d lean over her at the storyboard, or her breasts would brush against his arm whilst doing layout. Those days his urge had been suppressed. Now—_now_ he’ll never need to suppress his love and lust for her again. He can show her exactly what she does to him - she _impassions _him, _inspires _him, makes him want to break this goddamn couch and fuck her until even the cushions have nothing left to give.

Her hands tighten in his hair. “Juggie, I can’t…”

“Come,” he tells her, tongue swelling.

Face scrunching in sensation, Betty throws her head back, breasts pushed forward so he can nip and suck at her chest. Three long licks up her neck and she’s gone. Her strangled shout vibrates under his tongue. That sweet embrace pushes him harder, and when she comes down, he senses her energy starting to drain, her expression dazed.

“Don’t give up on me now, Omega.”

“No, I...I love you Alpha. Please—please come inside of me.”

His sweet mate kisses his face, itching his neck glands until he wants to swat at her and fuck her harder. The quicker pace has her bouncing, jiggling, almost wincing in her attempts to keep up.

Desperate to finish, he rolls her onto the couch, shoving one of the pillows under her back so he can kneel and just _plow _into her.

Her cries increase in volume, her eyes shut tight. It’s the fantasy. Her breasts jiggling, his name on her lips, cunt so tight and welcoming. His knot starts to swell, the lines on his neck burning.

“Alpha! Alpha! Ah—!” Her fingers wrap tight around his wrist, digging in and then circling until sparks dance behind his eyes and cock.

“Betty!” Of course he cries her name, fully swollen, slamming into his orgasm. His world is on fire, nothing but blinding, colorful light and pleasure and _Betty_.

As the ringing fades from his ears, their labored breaths filling the room, he rubs her bent knee. Wiggling, Betty looks satisfied and sleepy and _his_. Her sweet pink smile makes him want to lick her chapstick off and nuzzle into her neck. She twitches, readjusting as he moves them onto their sides, tucking her head into his shoulder.

“You’re definitely going to smell like me now.”

He laughs, rubbing her bare back, shivering when she presses a kiss to his chest. “I fantasized about fucking you on this couch the second you started the Blue and Gold.”

She pulls back to look up at him, eyes bright. “Really?” He nods. “How was it?”

“Amazing,” he breathes, still warm and tingling from the orgasm. “I want to do it again.”

“We will,” she giggles, slathering his chest in little pecks. “Not right now, but we will. Maybe this can be our other nest.”

They’re so in sync. He hums, tightening their hug.

“Oh! I need to get some scented candles in case the janitor or anyone else wants to come in.” He sighs. Although he loves her for her compassion and consideration, he kind of _wants _the room to stay like this. “Maybe we should open the windows. What smell do you like, Juggie?”

“You.” He kisses the top of her head. “Your shampoo. Your chapstick. _You_.” The world settles into a comfortable, tolerable place, his jeans still tangled around his legs.

Light scratching at his pecs make him want to fall asleep. “Okay...and if I asked for scents they sell in candle form?”

“Green apple. Burgers and fries. Pizza. Strawberry milkshake. Oh, god,” he groans, rolling her on top of him. “Your mother probably has a stockpile of sage to cover this kind of thing.”

“Maybe that’ll be our new scent.” Betty laughs, pushing up on his chest.

The view here is spectacular. He still doesn’t know how he got lucky enough as to be so perfectly designated with his best friend - with the gorgeous love of his life.

He’ll put up with the bullshit for this. For _them_.

~~~

People are _looking _at him. His neck throbs, twitches under the attention. He can practically hear their heart rates increase when he walks by, maybe out of fear, arousal, or the natural instinct to run away. Betty’s scent is slathered all over him and he doesn’t give two shits about it. He can only imagine what _she’s _going through as the one bearing a physical mark on her skin as evidence of their bond. Maybe he can get a tattoo for her - although anywhere on the neck would be too painful. He itches his gland absently, then shoves his collar tight up against his neck to smother the scent.

Hopefully, no one notices.

Headphones over his head, Jughead marches down the hall with his usual indifferent swagger and attempts to ignore everything except the song whiling away the minutes until lunch when Betty promised she would knot him again.

The sweetness of maple syrup invading his senses makes him recoil.

“Watch it, _hobo_.” Cheryl and her cronies block the hall with the same self-confidence her brother and his leering jock cronies used to bully people.

Jughead doesn’t bother removing his headphones, just glares and ducks his shoulder to move through them in this ridiculous game of Red Rover.

Tina and Ginger actually try to lean into him as he passes. His skin feels like it’s burning.

_Gross_.

No one should touch him when he’s still sensitive from Betty. Besides, those jerks are probably the most likely to mock Betty for her hormones. His jaw aches just thinking about it. Hunching into himself, he stalks through the halls, not stopping until he gets to the locker rooms. Thankfully, Reggie’s not in his class and Jason hasn’t come back since absconding off with Polly, so besides the normal grossness, there’s no threat of anything happening.

He discards his headphones and starts taking his shirts and beanie off before Archie comes trotting in. Coughing, Archie’s face contorts in unease.

“I guess I’m gonna have to get used to that, huh?”

Hair mussed, arms still somewhat in his shirt, Jughead turns to his friend. “That was exactly the right response, Archibald.”

Archie chuckles good-naturedly, lockers clanging all around. “I will say, though, you’re probably gonna _reek _by the end of the period.”

“Just another one of the joys of abundant testosterone.”

The guys in class all sort of shift uncomfortably when he joins them, automatically making room. “Well _this _is different,” he mutters to Archie, who cough-laughs into his fist. Physical activity seems easier now that he’s off his suppressants. There’s still little _enjoyment _in it for him - he doesn’t have the focus or determination like Archie does. His best friend always seems to kind of go into some kind of _zone _once he gets his heart rate high enough.

By the time they’re done, Jughead wonders at the subtle way the boys fall behind him on the way to the showers without the creeping unease of potentially being shoved into a locker.

Maybe he’s not just Betty’s Alpha. Maybe he’s _the_ Alpha when he’s like this.

That’s not exactly an element of responsibility he’s eager to cherish. Still, if it means no one else is going to try to steal his clothes when he rinses off, that counts as a win. He hates lathering any amount of Betty from him, tries to prevent washing his neck and glands, but he _has _to wash up before he stinks up the entire place.

Besides, if he’s lucky, they’ll be able to sneak away and knot during lunch without being too late for the next period. Just the idea of being inside Betty makes his cock throb, so he twists the knob to freezing cold and grits out a cry at the icy douse of sanity.

Swearing, he turns it off, dripping anger and shivering. Two towels don’t seem like enough to shield him from the annoyances of hormones. He ignores the sneaky glances from the other boys, no doubt curious if the rumors are true about Alpha genitalia. Thankfully, it appears his fight with Reggie got him street cred of some kind so people give him a little space.

Maybe he should keep some ice water on hand like Betty suggested, just in case there’s another run-in. She’s his precious, genius warrior. Thankfully, this time his heart kicks into overdrive at the thought of her instead of his dick, so he’s able to get re-dressed in record time, shouting, “Arch, you ready?”

“Yeah! Just a sec!”

As soon as they exit, they’re met with a wall of man-muscle. The Bulldogs, sniffing for meat. A few already seem a bit cowed, standing off to the side. Thanks to the icy shower, Jughead’s pulse thumps, but he keeps his cool.

“You stalking me, Reggie?”

“I just don’t like you stinking up the halls, that’s all. You and Cooper want to fuck in front of a murder board? That’s your business. But we can _smell _it, not to mention _hear _it in the halls. _Juggie! Alpha! Spray me!_”

He tastes blood, fangs protruding as he leaps forward to swipe at the giant meat sack of a man. _Alpha._

“Jug! Reg! Stop!”

The bitter clang of iron and steel floods his tongue and ears as they knock each other into the lockers.

“Don’t you _ever _talk about Betty!”

“What? The Omega who didn’t even want you enough to mark you in _heat_? You’re just lucky you found her first, Jones, or it would’ve been me hosing her down from the ins—”

His knuckles connect so hard that he _feels _Reggie’s teeth move. White-hot rage keeps pouring through him. Reggie will _never _touch Betty. _No one will touch his Omega. No one will _ever _take what’s his again._

“Boys, boys! Ah, shit! Help me out here!” Coach Clayton bellows distantly. The blinding light goes in streaks as their struggle gets shoved farther back. He keeps reaching for Reggie, ready to tear out every testosterone-infused strand of hair on his head. He’ll choke him to death so he can never smell Omega again.

“Jughead! Breathe!” Archie begs as sheets of icy water shoot at him from all sides. There are hands all over. Some twist him. Some hold. He hates them.

He’s choking on it, blinded by water. He has to close his eyes, shield his face, eventually let go of tearing at Reggie to move out from under the violent onslaught of freezing cold reality.

As water slides off his soaking wet shirt and he rolls to the side, shaking people off him, he stills, panting. Realizing.

He prowls around the perimeter of the room, glancing warily at the apprehensive crowd that’s gathered. Reggie’s on his knees, spitting blood into the drain.

He’s _not _paying that dental bill.

Something drips hot on his cheek and he wipes it on the back of his fist, absently realizing it’s his own bit of blood.

_Betty. He needs Betty._

Coach Clayton stands between them, one hand out like he’s ready to cuff a collar around both of their necks and wrestle them like alligators back to their pens. “Jones, take a walk! Reggie, go to the infirmary. If I catch _any _of you in this kind of altercation again it’ll be ice baths for everyone for a _week_, you understand me?”

“Yes, Coach Clayton,” the lemmings mutter under their breath.

Like this is _his _fault. Hormones. Reggie. Coach Clayton probably isn’t sending them to the Principal’s Office only because he doesn’t want to lose one of the stars on his precious football team.

Jughead slaps the tile and storms out of the room, leaving a streaky trail of water behind. He stalks to the Blue and Gold, barely hearing what Archie is trying to say behind him.

“He doesn’t know what he’s doing, Jug. Hormones. You know. You did it, too. I’ve never seen you so—”

“So _what_?” he snarls. Archie flinches back, but doesn’t leave. “So _feral_? Apparently, this is what an Alpha _looks like _when some asshole with a mindless beta posse insults his Omega!”

“I’m sorry. What can I do to help?”

“Don’t be fucking sorry, just tell Betty I—” The words get stuck in his throat as he realizes one of the ridiculous things that Reggie said - that Betty didn’t want Jughead enough to mark him back. He knows it’s not true - that Betty loves him. She begged him to mark her. She needs him, loves him. Alphas just don’t..._get _marked like that - not any that he’s ever heard of. Omega’s jaws usually aren’t powerful enough to leave a lasting impression. But he _wants _it. Jughead rubs one of the bare glands on his neck. “I’m going to the library for lunch.”

“What about food? You can’t sit there with wet clothes, can you?” Archie looks both ways down the hall, brow furrowed like he’s figuring out how to cover him from all angles. Both of their bags are hooked on either of his shoulders.

“Always asking the big questions, Arch,” he sighs fondly, stretching out his tense shoulders. “I’ll squeeze out what moisture I can in the bathroom without flooding the whole place. Maybe these hand dryers are more useful than they let on.” He rubs the back of his head, thankful that his now-sopping beanie took at least some of the brunt of his fight. Still, he’s worried something’s happened to it. Betty probably knows how to sew. Or he could try to fix it.

_Fuck._

Stupid hormones.

“Want me to get you a tray of food?”

“Yeah. Thanks, man. I...I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”

Archie looks at him like he’s being slow. “Jug, you’re my best friend. You both are. Any fight Reggie has with you is a fight with me, too. We’ll figure this out.”

“I probably owe you a burger after all this.”

“Maybe just let me win at FIFA once in a while,” Archie offers with a cocked grin, ever the golden boy.

“But where’s the satisfaction in that? Gimme my bag before we bro-hug it out in the hall and give people _more _of a reason to talk about my hormones,” he chuckles, embracing his heavy bag as it shifts from his best friend’s shoulders.

“I’ll be back.”

As he watches his friend walk with purpose, Jughead wonders what he did to deserve such support when so much of his life seems to have worn through and faded away.

_Betty_.

His body aches.

The roar of the hand dryers mercifully drowns out the rest of his thoughts until he’s at least dry enough to make it to the library._ The Squeegeed Beanie_ might make a nice book title. A memoir? He’s barely gotten the research on Alpha hormones stacked up and ready to be checked out before the doors burst open and Betty emerges like a radiant goddess on a quest.

He doesn’t have to say anything to get her attention. She just _finds _him. One look at his disheveled appearance and her eyes widen in alarm and what might be silent fury at whoever caused the cut on his cheek. She stalks wordlessly to his side, fists clenched, and waits for him to finish checking out. He can tell she’s scanning the titles, holding back angry tears.

“It’s fine,” he whispers as subtly as he can, avoiding the shrewd, disapproving look of the librarian.

Jaw tensing, she shakes her head. They don’t say anything as he slips the books into his bag, but just as he’s about to head to a table, Betty grabs the band of his messenger bag and drags him towards the Blue and Gold office.

“Betts, what—”

“I want to see something.”

“What are you—?” He straightens, annoyed, when he sees Veronica and Kevin waiting for them in the hall. 

The Park Avenue Princess eyes them, unimpressed, tapping a heel and crossing her arms. “About time.”

“V, do you want to hurt Jughead?” Surprised by the question, Jughead studies his girlfriend’s face. She’s shaking. He wants to hold her, but he’s still wet. That might make her shake more. He settles for shielding her instead.

Kevin’s eyes are practically popping out of his head he’s watching them all so closely.

“What are _you _looking at?” Jughead snaps.

Taken aback, Kevin holds up his hands and looks to Veronica for her response. Eyes narrowed, unmoved, she responds, “No. Not especially.”

“Do you _hate _him?”

She sighs, clearly uncomfortable with the question.

“Be _honest _now,” he goads, cricking his neck, ready for round 4 of the day with psycho Alphas now that he’s one of them.

“_No_. I think he’s..._dirty_, is the easiest way to put it. No offense.”

_Sure. _“None taken.”

“Although that might be because of his current predicament,” she muses, noting the slight puddle by his shoes.

“Okay, now if I stand by V—”

“Betty, what is this?” He pulls his arm out of her grasp, trying to push her to the side so they can have some semblance of privacy. “Why are you testing my proximity to Veronica?”

“Because…” He can see the way her mark flares red still - the way her throat swells with emotion. “I should have tested this or done my research. I should have let you stay home until your rut was over. I didn’t realize...I didn’t—” She sniffs, tears glazing her eyes.

“Betts.” He reaches for her cheek, her neck glands.

Closing her eyes in determination, Betty turns away. “Cheryl and Veronica used to get into verbal spats when they were both presented, but they found a way to tolerate one another. Maybe because they didn’t have a designated mate? I just want to see if it’s Reggie in particular or if there’s something we can do—”

“Betty—”

“No, I should be better at this—”

He grabs her hard around the wrist, whirling her towards him. “_Everything is better when you are with me. _Do you understand that, Omega?” She nods, chewing her lip. He can sense the embarrassment radiating off of her and caresses her cheek, then her neck glands to soothe her worry away. “None of this is your fault. I love you. I would fight or tolerate everyone on Earth just for an hour with you, Betty.” She sighs, caressing his wrist and making him want to purr. “You’re the best Omega and mate I could ever ask for. That doesn’t mean you have to have all the answers for whatever it is we’re going through. Everyone else...every_thing_ else is white noise. You and me...that’s what matters. We’ll figure it out.” She looks up at him, eyes still dewy and lip trembling but no longer devastated and conflicted. “Come here.” They kiss, softly, quietly, a peck, a promise.

“Who knew Jughead was such a romantic?” Kevin chimes in quietly from the peanut gallery.

_Way to ruin the mood. Idiot_.

“Let’s get this test going so Jughead can get his appetite whet. All these puddles are probably not doing anything for Cheryl’s suede boots. Although that may be a good thing. How do you feel about prowling near the Vixens practice later, Jughead?” At his glare, Veronica shrugs and looks at Betty. “Seems like Alpha ladies are less of a threat to breaking the testosterone dam. Maybe we just know how to balance things a little better.” Her false smile might as well be all canines. Jughead’s thumb caresses Betty’s neck, inspiring uncomfortable eye rolls and shifting from Kevin and Veronica.

“Damn, Betty. Get a room. Or return to it.” Kevin gestures down towards the Blue and Gold with a shit-eating grin on his face. It takes everything in Jughead not to growl.

_Voyeur_.

_Gossip._

Kevin probably just wants all the details on the fighting and fucking going on in their lives. There’s no way he has an ounce of integrity like Archie has - no way he’d jump in and try to prevent a fight or get them a meal. _Maybe _he’d do something nicer for Betty. He’d _better_.

“Thank you for the input,” Betty clips, cheeks flaming as she pulls at her skirt. “I’ll just get Juggie home and check in later.”

“Bye, B! Good luck with your _wild stallion_,” Veronica teases, waving cheekily.

“Wait!” Archie skids down the hall, foil-wrapped food tumbling across the cheap plastic tray. “I got it!”

“Having Archiekins fetch your homework _and _food? I’m impressed.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Jughead warns, which Veronica notes and promptly ignores. “Thanks, Arch. I’ll get you some Pop’s on Wednesday or whenever this thing is over.”

“No rush.”

A low sort of dread builds in his gut when Jughead sees the appreciative way Veronica eyes their most-likely Omega friend. He doesn’t want to take advantage of Archie’s personality, and he certainly doesn’t want _Veronica _to, either. Although, judging by the way the Pussycats slow down and assess the group dynamic on the way to the music room, maybe Veronica will have some competition for Archie’s affections outside of his friendships.

“Come on, let’s get you home and out of these wet clothes. I already got our homework.”

“My Omega takes such good care of me,” he teases, wrapping a firm arm around her waist as he bites into the partially unwrapped cheeseburger.

Veronica sighs wistfully behind them. “Our bestie bae is marked and being cute for Valentine’s Day. This calls for an extra-consolatory spa day and milkshakes on me. You in, Archie?”

“And so it begins,” Jughead grumbles darkly, sinking his teeth into his hamburger.

~~~

The last time they were in the trailer, Betty’d opened all the windows to let some of their scent out so they could do a deep clean for when FP returned. Well, they cleaned as much as they could when they were so turned on. Scrubbing the counters down turned into fucking Betty from behind, hoisting her hips up so he could hit her g-spot and knot, his Omega squeezing down hard around him.

Even remembering it makes him want a repeat performance.

“Maybe we won’t have to re-wash everything if we use that blanket underneath?”

“A sex blanket, Betts? Kinda kinky.”

“I just don’t want to put him out any more than he already has been,” she pouts.

Betty looks so fucking cute he wants to hug her and kiss the entirety of her face. “I think my dad’s still proudly in exile. He said he was planning on staying at Tall Boy’s for another two days to give himself a cushion from the smell.”

“Do you think the Blue and Gold is totally musked?” She places their school bags to the side and worries her nails under the hem of his shirt.

He peels off the outermost layer of his button-down on his own. “Maybe. I hope so.”

“Juggie,” she chides affectionately, scratching lightly on his abs. Tingles shoot down to his gut and along his glands.

“What? I like the way we smell.” He lifts his arms up so she can tug the clinging t-shirt and tank top off of him. “In fact, I can’t get enough.”

As he nuzzles into her neck, pushing her against the counter, Betty gasps with glee. Her hands find purchase on his glands, caressing him sweetly.

Nearly growling, he edges close enough to feel her breathy anticipation. The feel of her fingernails against his neck makes him want to fuck her right here. “I seem to remember you saying something about wanting to get me out of my wet clothes?”

“Mmhm,” she hums, nose brushing his as she leans up for a kiss. Every inch tingles as her fingers work their way down his bare chest to the fasten on his jeans.

As it pops open, he kisses her a little harder, rocking his growing erection against her for friction. “I don’t think that’s very fair, do you?”

A little dazed from the kiss, she doesn’t process where his hand sneaks off to the side. “Wha…? Juggie, _no!_” she squeals, fully aware of the sink’s spray nozzle pointed in her direction. The hiss of water makes her squiggle. He gets her just enough to make her push against him and gasp. “You…!”

The sprayer thuds against the cabinets before retracting to the sink.

“Do you know how many times I’ve been hosed down today?” he jokes, tugging her shirt off and tossing it across the room. “And it was _all _worth it to get to this moment.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she protests. The annoyed expression fades pretty quickly once he lifts her up and puts her on the counter, though. Then, she’s all smiles, trying to push his jeans off with her feet while he has the pleasure of skirt-wrangling.

“You’re gorgeous. You’re _mine_.”

They’re not fully naked but he’s already rutting against her thighs, kissing her deeply. This is better than lunch. Better than breakfast - than _anything_. The heat in his blood fizzles with need as he hooks his hands under her ass and carries her to the couch. She barely manages to shove the blanket beneath them in time before he’s kissing her neck, laving her in love.

A needy cry escapes her perfect throat. He wants to suck every noise right out of it until nothing’s left but pleasure. _Omega._ She clenches her thighs around him, pulling him closer.

“Tell me, Omega. Tell me how you need your Alpha.”

“I need you,” she pants. “Fuck, Jug, I need you inside of me.”

He gets back on his knees, pulling her underwear off. He can’t fight the smirk on his face.

“What?” she fidgets impatiently.

“You’re soaked. And not just from the sink.”

Tossing her head back in exasperation, Betty rips her hair tie out and ruffles her beautiful blonde mane under her, hitting him with a flood of endorphins.

“You look—you smell so beautiful,” he chokes, barely managing to shove his boxers down to his knees before hooking one of her legs up and thrusting into her.

The impact hits him right down to his bones in satisfaction.

“Betty…”

“You’re so big…”

Lost to the haze, Jughead keeps thrusting into her, matching the pace of her nails grooving into his back. Sex with Betty is perfect. Sublime. She cracks open every part of him that needs to breathe and fills him with life.

Scrambling up, she holds onto his face, pinkies skimming his neck as she kisses him. They catch each other again and again, the motion making it hard to stay linked at the lips as well as the hips.

He moans, sinking into her slick, welcoming heat. Teeth aching, he peppers kisses down her neck and grazes his teeth along her mark. “Jug,” she cries, holding him tightly. “I want your bite.”

Chomping down, he savors the sweet moment of release - of her muscles contracting him tightly, her orgasm flooding his senses until they’re practically fizzy. The steel of her blood doesn’t even register beyond the salty tang of her skin.

As her cries start to fade, her euphoria circling down, he laps at her bite. “You’ll take my mark, Omega.”

“Yes,” she pants. Her breath catches as he hits her clit, giving him the briefest glimpse of her canines. 

“You’ll give me mine.”

“I’m yours.” Squeezing him, she lays her head back. “All yours, Alpha.”

Growling, he nips at her again, wanting to mark every inch of her. “Good. Mine.”

She moans, running her hands through his hair like the messier it is the more he belongs to her. As they keep rutting together, she looks up at him. Something like desire blackens her gaze and she tugs on his locks so harshly that he almost starts to knot, canines extending. “I hated having anyone else smell you. I could’ve killed Ethel. _I’m _your Omega, Juggie. I’m the one who helps you, who knots with you. You’re _mine_, and I’m yours.”

“You want to claim me?” he teases, the words a little drooly because he’s so fucking turned on by his Omega getting possessive.

She bends forward, licking up his neck.

“Ooh, good. Yes. Omega wants her scent all over her Alpha, huh?”

She nods, never stopping, heat building through his gut, knot swelling. It’s like she just keeps shoveling coals into the furnace of his need.

“Such a good fucking Omega. I’d let you bite me, if you could. I’d want your teeth right on me so no one could smell me that way but you.”

Her pussy tightens around him, egging him on. She keens, licking him more desperately.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Matching marks? My smell dominating yours, mixing, like when I fuck you like the good Omega you are…”

“Juggie,” she whimpers, tugging his hair again. “I’m gonna come again. I can’t—”

“You can. Do it, Betty. I’m going to come—”

Her breath is wet and wild at the juncture of his neck and shoulder - and then, just as he’s approaching that crest, she sinks into _him. _It’s not pure pleasure - a spark of pain shoots through his nerves as if she’s just sunk her nails in along with her teeth, but her humming against him and the suckling of her lips gets him past that to bliss.

She’s milking him. _Marking_ him.

“Good Omega. Oh, _fuck_, Betty, you’re so good to me.”

He’d let her ride this out, too, he can feel her trembling around him, but everything’s too much. His nostrils are flaring with arousal and blood and his and Betty’s scents mingling and he bites down on her again. She screams into his bite, but doesn’t let go, not until his knot is done and she’s gone boneless.

As the blinding lust subsides, he practically mewls at her, lapping her wounds as she does to his, carefully cupping each other’s heads.

“Alpha, I…” Her eyes are dewy, dazed.

“You did so good, Betty. So good.” He kisses her encouragingly.

“Is that even real? Is that allowed?”

“We just did it, so I’d say so,” he chuckles, nuzzling her face, trying not to cry with relief. “You marked me, Betty. I’m yours.”

“Yours,” she repeats dreamily, stroking his face. The ache of her bite is tender, but wonderful, and he knows that she must be feeling the same.

“I’ll mark you over and over again. Mine. I’ll make you come. I’ll take such good care of you,” he promises. After placing a quick peck on her wrist, Jughead gathers both of her hands and pins them above her head. Her body stretches, accommodating and lithe underneath him. Her bra has a speckle of his blood on it and part of him hopes that it stains. She looks so _happy._

“I love you, Alpha.”

“I love you, Omega.”

Whether it’s the remnant of the rut or the _years _of love for his mate that’ve built up, Jughead smothers himself in her scent. The knot keeps them secure, even as she coughs and wiggles under his weight.

“Come here,” he murmurs, half-rolling them onto their sides without totally dislodging the blanket.

Her eyelashes are so pretty. She traces the edges of her imprint on his skin with fondness. “So Omegas..._can _mark their Alphas. I didn’t think my teeth…” She looks up at him, green eyes still dark, almost shiny with glee.

“Apparently they can. You’re strong _and _sweet.” She giggles at the kiss he presses to her forehead. “To be fair, I didn’t know, either. I _hoped_. Reggie actually said something that implied Omegas could mark their mate.”

“Reggie?” Her brow furrows in confused disgust. “What, he actually tried to have a conversation when he wasn’t trying to challenge your dominance?”

“Theoretically.”

She scoffs, rubbing her neck on his arm. The smell is delicious, and he knows after a short break that he’ll be eager to rut inside of her again.

Betty still looks troubled, though, so he nudges her with his arm. “What are you thinking about?”

“I just...I can’t believe _Reggie _knew something _I _didn’t. About _me_. About Omega mating.”

He chuckles, pushing her hair behind her ear. “If it’s any consolation, I think he also knows a little more about masturbation, steroids, and the NFL. We’ve got him on pretty much everything else.”

Mildly sated, Betty leans forward to pepper him in kisses. “He’s probably just jealous that we found our perfect mates. Maybe that’s why he’s so..._incendiary _about it.”

His gut clenches at the thought of Reggie being jealous of what _he _has. Safety. Love. _Betty_. “That...makes _sense_, I guess.” It’s not like Cheryl or Veronica are looking for soulmates in high school, but the idea that Reggie - boisterous, obnoxious _Reggie_ \- _is..._or maybe it’s more about feeling betrayed because of Jason’s recent parting of the ways with his high school pack to be with another Cooper Omega. It’s not like Reggie can take a swing at Jason, his former or possibly _current_ best friend, nor his mate, without having fallout. Thus, the target on Jughead and Betty.

Biting her lip, probably sensing cognitive dissonance, Betty caresses his cheek. “Should I get the first aid kit?”

“Later,” he murmurs, savoring the sting of her bite, the tenderness of her embrace. “I seem to remember us leaving some pasta as a gift in the fridge.”

“Oh, Jug, if we eat that, we have to make him more, then do the dishes as a thank you.”

He unhooks her bra, fingers skimming her bare back. “I’d say that’s definitely worth it.”

~~~

Thankfully, the dress code allows him to leave a few buttons undone so his mark can breathe. Betty’s wearing an off-the-shoulder number he thinks is specially designed to make him want to bury his face in her neck the entire evening. Even her hair is pinned back on one side to give him easy access to her mark. Maybe they’re showing off, but he’s already stopped caring about that now that everyone knows about their alignment and all the bonding they did (and sometimes still do) in the Blue and Gold office.

He loops Betty’s arm through his and steps into the gym. At least this feels more like the entrance he’d wanted once they mated.

A variety of hearts and soft lights project lazily along the walls, love songs crooning from the gym speakers before the Pussycats have fully prepared for their set. Even the balloons and flowers seem to scream _Season of Love_ but the colors of red, pink, and white hardly register unless they’re on Betty’s skin. Her lavender skirt brushes against his leg.

“I like this shirt on you.” She smiles, tugging his dark purple, almost navy collar to peek at his mark in full.

“Thank you, Betty,” he preens.

“Nice bruise,” Reggie heckles half-heartedly, pinky up as he takes a sip of what smells like recently spiked punch.

“Nice date,” Jughead retorts, eyeing the Bulldogs.

The rut has subsided along with _most _of his animosity. Apparently Reggie got a nice talking-to and probably lessened his “supplement” intake. They’re Alphas in parallel, according to the guidance counselor and Weatherbee. Jughead doesn’t give a shit about running a pack or having people fall in line behind him. He just wants his best friends and the dignity of his booth in Pop’s.

Jughead and Betty stride hand-in-hand to the food cart, where she plies him with glittering sugar cookies. Archie’s off to the side looking awkward and sweaty but charmingly grown-up in a tailored red blazer as he tunes up his guitar. The Pussycats are all setting up their respective gear, Veronica waving and winking at Betty with one of the special edition heart-shaped cat ear headbands over her glossy black hair.

“You look great, V! You too, Arch!” Betty encourages.

“Thanks.” Archie swallows what appears to be a golf ball of tension in his throat and wipes his brow. “Just nervous about playing under all these lights. In front of all these people.” Their friend pales like he’s about to get sick.

“You’ll do amazing, I know it. Playing for your friends? All your favorite songs, with your favorite local band? You’re going to have so much fun!” Whenever Betty encourages their friends, it’s like an instant dose of positive energy that makes Jughead feel indescribably proud to know her.

Jughead hugs his mate before letting go enough to clap Archie on the shoulder, cookies still held high in one hand. “If you have to throw up on someone, try to aim for Reggie.”

At least Archie bursts into laughter at that, _some _of the tension dissolving. “Okay, I’m gonna go set up. You guys have fun. Uh, six inches apart! I don’t want to see any necking on the dance floor.”

“What, _us_?” he mocks, enjoying the way Archie shakes his head as he goes to set up.

Jughead’s honestly surprised that being around that much Alpha female hasn’t sent Archie into a heat. Maybe he’s _not _an Omega, although Betty is rarely wrong.

“Don’t you like your cookies?” Betty asks, suspiciously coquettish.

He looks at the hearts in his hand. _Be Mine. Truly Yours._

Chuckling, he breaks them both in half to share. “Yes.”

A few bites later, he’s aware of the looks their matching marks get, the way the photographer stares openly when they pose together for the superficial thing that’ll probably hang in Betty’s locker and room mirror, but it’s all just background noise.

He’s dancing with Betty, her arms around his neck, his tight around her waist. They’re close, scents mingled, but not overpowering anyone else on the floor. Their own little bubble. The sparkle of the overhead lights hits her irises and he can’t help but grin.

“What, Juggie?”

“You are literally giving me heart-eyes right now.”

She blinks at him, ever-indulgent. “Aren’t I always?”

“Usually.” Before he can close the distance between them for a kiss, Archie appears, more distraught and sweaty than when he first got onstage. “You serious about those six inches, Arch?”

_The smell._

That does _not_ bode well for the Pussycats.

“Can I talk to Betty about something?” Archie winces, pulling his collar up higher on his pinking face.

“Oh my god. Call Fred,” she commands Jughead, one hand trailing down into his while she reaches for their friend. “Archie, are you…?”

“I have to finish the set, but I’m feeling kinda warm.”

“You _have_ to get some water.”

“Right! Ice water! Thanks!”

“No! Archie!”

Betty turns to Jughead, wide-eyed and incredulous, as their friend barrels towards the spiked punch and gets half a spoonful on himself. “Does he even realize what’s happening?”

“Probably not." He frowns, texting Mr. Andrews. “Maybe Fred can stay with my dad for the week. Oh, oh, there he goes,” he notes, half-jogging along with Betty to prevent Archie from spilling half the punch bowl down his shirt. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get you home.”

Jughead and Betty each take an arm, shouldering Archie’s sticky weight as he tries to paw back towards the stage. “But I have to talk to the Pussycats and Veronica! They were counting on me to play!”

“They can handle the last couple of songs without you. You, on the other hand, might want to ask one of _them _for a favor. Any particular girl you have your eye on who might be willing to lend you a, uh, hand?” He cringes, trying to ignore Betty’s _look _from his peripheral.

“Do I have to _choose_? _One_ of them, I mean?”

Betty’s jaw drops open in horror and she almost lets Archie fall onto Jughead. “What do you mean _one _of them?”

“Well, Ronnie’s so charismatic, and Val’s really cool. Josie’s—”

“I’d stop now if you know what’s good for you,” Jughead advises, almost laughing at Archie’s ignorance of Betty’s building rage. “Blame it on the bright lights and hormones. They’re all great, Archie. But I’ve got the best.” He winks at Betty across their friend’s shoulders and sees her annoyance melt half a degree.

Betty rubs Jughead’s wrist behind Archie’s back, just a subtle touch to remind him that yes, they do have the best of everything, including each other.

**Author's Note:**

> SHOUTOUTS. First of all, happy birthday to @jandjsalmon, who is such an utter delight and wonderful being that I'm pretty sure she IS secretly a fairy godmother or gnome-wrangler of some kind. She's a thoughtful beta and an even more considerate friend whose input helps build these crazy worlds I write, even this one! She's been requesting more of Alpha!Jug and this universe ever since the first fic came out, so I hope she loves this fic even a tenth as much as I love her!
> 
> Secondly, to Katie, aka bugggghead, who was beta to the first fic and returned to this one with a VENGEANCE of awesome - crafting a gorgeous graphic within like fifteen minutes of me sending her my attempts XD her cheerleading, talents, and friendship are glorious things to behold and I'm so happy we were able to work together again!
> 
> Thirdly, TO ALL OF YOU! Comments, kudos, and even the bffa votes on the original all stir my imagination and happiness. Although Jandy's the one who planted the seed of the continuation, all of your support helps these stories grow just like her comments help me work through rough passages in my docs ;) I hope to see more of your thoughts and thank you all so much for your support! Favorite scenes? Hopes for the future? I hope you enjoyed a little bit more of the supportive, loving universe of Betty and Jughead as mates for life


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